


Bonehead’s bank holiday

by katy15307



Series: Short Story Thingies [3]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katy15307/pseuds/katy15307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth wants to listen to her new album but all she can hear is Bonehead and his mates playing football. (May 1981)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonehead’s bank holiday

I was sat at my desk, in my room. A simple beechwood computer desk type desk (except that's anachronistic, it never had a computer, no one had computers in 1981) the rest of my room was simple too. I’d lived within these plain cream walls my entire life. Naturally I’d covered the walls in a poster or two once I’d gotten into music but that was about it. Sat on the desk was my most valuable possession, my record player, well the records themselves were too but one without the other is pretty useless.   
I was trying to do maths homework or at least that's what I told my Dad so he wouldn't disturb me.  
Someone outside on the grass had a radio on, they had it turned up way too loud so everyone and their granny could hear it. It was really starting to bug me. They, the group of lads started chanting “Glory, glory Man United!” over and over just because their team had scored.  
I went to the window to see if I recognised any of them that I wouldn't mind telling to shut the fuck up.  
I hadn’t noticed how sunny it was until then, it was an unusual sight in Manchester but there was hardly a cloud in the sky. My Dad should have been insisting I spend the day outside, he usually did on days like this.  
They were a bunch of fifteen year olds with nothing better to do on the May bank holiday. The only lad I knew was Bonehead. I knew the others (they were playing three a side football with a ball that had seen better days and jumper goal posts) were from school but I'd never talked to them before.  
Bonehead was famous for his very short dark hair, in fact a lot of people didn’t even know his name was Paul, we all just always called him Bonehead, even some of the teachers did.  
They'd stopped chanting to get on with playing but their match and the radio was still too loud. I couldn’t hear myself think.  
I opened my window and stuck my head out. “Oi! Bonehead!”   
He turned and looked to see who was shouting him. “Beth! What d’you want? I’m busy.”  
“Can you please turn it down a bit?”  
“No! The match is on!” he shouted back.  
“Please, I'm trying to study.” I pleaded, sticking with the lie.  
“What a fucking swot!” One of the lads commented. “Stop trying to crawl up your teacher's arses.”  
I rolled my eyes. “Truth is I want to play my new lp but they didn’t record it to have a crappy chant and you lot ruining it.”  
“Yeah? What you got? Some weirdo, new wave, punk crap?” Bonehead questioned, interested.  
Everyone thought I was punk and only into punk because I had black hair and wore dark clothes that new wave bands wore but I wasn’t. I was into lots of genres, rock, punk, new wave, synth pop, I just prefered to show my new wave affiliation.   
There were plenty of albums I needed to buy from all sorts of artists but I stuck to British rock on this one.  
I got the vinyl out the carrier bag and proudly held it up to the window so he could see. I knew he’d like this one, probably way more than I did.   
His eyes lit up, he wanted it, he wanted to listen to it, he was jealous I had it. “Well we're having a match so it can wait.”  
“Can ye leave us alone now? He’s not interested, love.” another lad spoke up.   
“Birds just don’t fucking get football, ignore her and get on with the game.” another patted Bonehead on the shoulder as he spoke loudly.  
“In that case, that’s my evening ruined. One of your Man City mates asked me to watch their match round his house later…” I responded, forgetting my Dad was probably listening.  
“Yeah? Who’s that?” Bonehead interrupted.  
“None of your business… Are you going to keep it down or not?” I asked impatiently.  
They all looked at each other expecting Bonehead to say something laddish.   
“Not, sorry love, we need to listen to this. It’s not my fault you lasses don’t understand what it’s on about.” He delivered, sounding nothing like his usual self. “And you’re wasting your time with City scum.”  
“Fine, have your stupid commentary on.” I huffed as I shut my window forcefully and pulled my curtains shut, putting my room into darkness.  
I laid on my bed listening to their noise with nothing else to do. I knew he said what he said to impress his mates but I was hurt, he wasn’t like that. He was one of the good lads.  
…   
Dad was making dinner when someone knocked at the door. He didn’t hear it or chose to ignore it so I went and answered it.  
“What are you doing here?” I asked realising I was still wound up.  
He passed me a tin of chocolates, Quality Streets. “Come to say sorry and that.”  
“Go on, then.” I said impatiently, wanting to get rid of him.  
“Can we not talk, in private?” he asked, wanting to go up to my room.  
I pointed up the stairs. “Quiet.” My Dad would not be happy if he knew Bonehead was in the house, never mind in my room.   
He snuck upstairs and I said bye to the empty doorway to fool my Dad.  
“Who was that?” he shouted from the kitchen.  
“My mate, y’know other Beth, she wanted me to come out but you’re making dinner.” I quickly lied.  
My best friend was called Beth, we were known as the Beths and treated kind of like we were twins. It didn’t exactly help our weird image.  
“Should’ve invited her in, I’ve probably made enough. You know what I’m like.” he tried to joke.  
“No, she can’t, she’s going to a gig.” I continued to lie. “Can I put my new record on?”  
“What is it?” He was expecting me to say some “crap” band he didn’t like so he could say no or make some comment.  
“Face Dances by the Who.”   
He thought about it, or got distracted by the food. “Alright. Do not play it loud and when I shout you for dinner you get to the table straight away.”   
“Thanks Dad.” I said before rushing upstairs, excited to finally listen to the music and excited Bonehead was in my room again.  
“Can’t believe you have this album before me.” Bonehead commented.  
He was sat on my bed like he owned the place examining the sleeve carefully. “Same cover designer as Sgt. Pepper.”   
“Oh cool, didn’t know that.” I nodded as I took the record to play it.  
He got to his feet and watched me set the record up. He turned the volume knob fast as soon as the needle hit the first track, making us both jump at the sudden noise.  
“Oi!” I turned it down again before my Dad decided to come storming in. “Dad said…”  
“Alright, sorry.” he said quietly as he started looking around my desk.  
It wasn’t the apology I wanted but it would do for now. I sat on my bed and read the song information on the sleeve, wondering what he was looking for.  
“Good song this.” he nodded as he sat on my bed, he mumbled the words as he was holding a joint between his lips.  
I took it from his lips and hid it on my bedside table. “Dad’s lasagna will be ready soon, I can’t, he’d notice.”  
“All the shit you hide from him and you think he’ll finally notice his darling daughter does drugs now?”  
“I don’t do drugs, I sometimes smoke weed because of you.” I corrected.  
He was right though, my Dad wasn’t the most observant and since Mam left, he mostly just tried to keep me happy because he didn’t want to deal with an angry teenager.  
“Alright, sorry I was a dick earlier, the lads…” he apologised sincerely.  
Would think he was a freak if they knew he liked me, if they knew he liked to hang out with me like this. “They’re idiots.” he concluded.  
“Who won?”  
“We did, obviously.” he smirked.  
He shuffled closer to me and touched my hair where I’d plaited a strand with a bright, multicoloured ribbon. “You’re not a new wave weirdo. I love how you do your hair and that.”   
“Thanks.” I smiled and ran my hand through his hair. “Yours is pretty cool too.”  
Everyone knew he had that haircut because his Dad made him but I’d always liked it. “No, it’s not.” he gave a cheeky smile.  
He leant in to kiss me as “The Quiet one” played, our lips met and I kissed him back.  
“Beth! Dinner’s ready!” Dad shouted at just the wrong moment.  
I turned the record player off and instructed Bonehead to be quiet but he knew the drill. I went and ate with my Dad without him realising anything was going on.  
…   
I back to my room as fast as I could. Bonehead was laid on his back, holding the joint between his fingers.  
“Can we light this now?” Bonehead asked before holding it between his lips again.  
I nodded, played the record from the beginning again and laid right next to him, forgetting I was ever mad at him or hurt by his words.


End file.
